The daydream, the scene, can start with just a line. Words on a page draws my eye like nothing else.

I was waiting in line for the changing room, and the man in front of me was reading on his Kindle.

I didn’t want to be rude and looked away immediately. It was a brief glimpse, but it had already stuck.

‘Every age finds a use for this place’.

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We had come a long way to reach our destination. While I would never tell my companion, I’m convinced that finding the entrance was just dumb luck. It was sand storm season and to say clear weather was rare would be a gross understatement.

I could see dust and sand slowly falling, softly lit by some hidden crevice above. A soft wind whistling through the canyon we left behind us, and the scrunch of our boots on a layer of hard sand against rock.

‘Hey old man, maybe now you can tell me why we’re here?’, I softly said, not wanting to disturb the peace.

There was a certain solemnity here in the smooth rock walls. It spoke of men’s wisdom and character, immense and unyielding like a river.

‘Every age finds a use for this place’, he said and paused.

I waited. I could see that he was picking his next words.

‘Treasure home, fort, laboratory, hideaway, workshop, market’, he slowly said, ‘this place has been many things. But not empty. The last time I was here, I witnessed the birth of Damascus Steel. Imagine my surprise when I returned to this part of the world and no one knew of this place. It had been forgotten.’

‘And I would like to find out why’, he looked at me as he finished.

His gaze had a weight to it.

I resisted the urge to scratch.


PS: I had several ideas but mainly revolving around the man being incredibly old, maybe an elf?

PPS: I’ve been reading too much fantasy.

PPPS: I’ve finally posted something, anything.







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